Welcome to Hogwarts, Mr Grant
by Bottomdweller
Summary: A summertime threat causes Dumbledore to enlist some help from across the pond. Meet Percival Grant. Just don't get in his way.


**Welcome to Hogwarts, Mr. Grant**

Day 1 

"Ogdens." said the man as he took his seat at the Leaky Cauldron. He noticed the longer-than-necessary look and nod that the barkeep gave him, and though it always bothered him a bit, at least it happened less often this far from home. After all, the English don't read the Salem Sentinel too often. He looked for a moment in the mirror over the bar at his young but weathered face. His short black hair was a little messy from the nap he took to get over some jetlag. Whatever, he thought, he probably wasn't going anywhere tonight outside this inn anyway.

The place had a great atmosphere like most wizard inns, but this one had an extra medieval feel to it. It could only have this vibe in England, he thought. That intangible feeling of history was seeping in to the room from the cracks in the walls and floors. The talking mirrors were a nice touch too. Last night his own kept telling him to use a simple spell to get rid of his 3 day stubble, and even apologized when he told it to keep its advice to itself. He knew it was trying to be helpful, but advice like that…well… was just more annoying to him than the average wizard.

The bartender, apparently named Tom, (he'd heard another patron call him that anyway) brought him the shot glass and Ogdens bottle with a polite nod. He looked for a while at the black liquid that slowly swirled around, which, so he'd heard, it would do even if the bottle hadn't been touched for days.

The foreigner poured himself one and shot it down. Brits make some strong stuff when they want to, he thought. Getting an idea, he held his breath until he'd gotten out one of his cigars and held the front end in front of his lips. Breathing out steadily, he couldn't help but smile as his breath smoothly transfigured into small flames, and lit his cigar when he'd puffed on the other end . Turns out they called it firewhisky for a pretty good reason.

"Firs' time tryin' Ogden's, eh?" said a voice above him to his left. Turning his head towards the voice, he saw an enormous face hidden behind a wild beard and topped with a mess of hair, both as black as the Ogdens on the table. Of course, there wasn't just a face, there was a huge body attached, about twice his size and at least twice times as wide as the front end of a Dodge Ram. If the stranger hadn't seen his share of giants in the past, he'd probably have jumped off his barstool. As it was though, he usually kept his cool, and this apparently part giant had a smile on his face.

"Am I that obvious?" he asked. The big guy seemed like the jovial type, and he didn't exactly know a lot of folks in town anyway.

"Well, it's not uncommon fer outta town folks ter get a kick outta Ogden's. On'y found in Britain an' all. How 'bout a fillup there, Tom?"

"Righto Hagrid. The usual I suppose?" Tom only half-asked; he'd already started sorting through some buckets, apparently trying to find one that was big enough to serve a drink with to the big guy.

"Hadn' introduced meself properly. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I'm also the Care of Magical Creatures teacher there." Hagrid announced with beaming smile, and extended his hand.

"Percival Grant," the young man said as he fit his hand into Hagrid's huge one. "Pleased to meet you, especially since you're working at Hogwarts. I'm supposed to be meeting with your Princi…I mean, uh…what was it…Headmaster tomorrow." Tom hefted a heavy, sloshing bucket onto the bar and pushed it down towards them.

Hagrid looked a bit surprised at Percival's words. He nodded his thanks to Tom and took a sip from his bucket of beer. "Dumbledore? Wha' about?"

"Not exactly sure, but apparently it's job related, and things are slow back home so I flew out to meet with him. He didn't really want to talk about it much until we were face to face." Percival answered.

"Ah!" said Hagrid with a smile and a swig, "Then you'll be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher! Oh the kids're jus' great…well most of 'em. Teaching at Hogwarts is the best, and I reckon yer the firs' Yank professor at Hogwarts that I ever heard of!"

The problem with working, or just being in, the wizarding world is that everyone just assumes you're a wizard. 0f course, Percival reminded himself, most of the people that wizards meet are wizards, so it's only natural to assume that new people that they meet are magically inclined. Still though, this type of conversation usually led to an awkward moment and Percival wanted to avoid it if possible. He already didn't want to lie because this Hagrid character seemed harmless enough. He noticed that Tom had given Hagrid a smile when he sat down. Bartenders often know either the best or worst side of their patrons, and if Tom saw this massive, rather frightening looking man in his bar, called him by name and smiled, then the big guy was ok.

Flicking off his cigar's ashes, Percival replied, "Sounds great, but I doubt that's the case. I am looking forward to seeing Hogwarts though, it's supposed to be incredible. A buddy of mine went to school there and was telling me all about it."

"Well why not? Can' think o' whatever else Dumbledore might wan' wi' yeh at Hogwarts. No one sides Umbridge's been sacked or quit or r' tired…"

"Well I'll find out soon I guess."

Day 2 

Knock knock

" 'Ousekeepin', " called a thick accent through the rough wooden door. Rolling towards the voice's general direction he mumbled something that probably sounded like "Come back later damnit!" Percival was never one for mornings, which worked out well since he did so much of his work by night. Still, it couldn't hurt to get a move on, and he did have the meeting with Dumbledore this afternoon. Stretching, yawning, and looking blearily around for his bag, he got to his feet. He never had to look far for his weathered green shoulder bag. He always kept this, his most prized possession, close by his side. In his line of work, an enchanted object like this was crucial. Reaching into the visibly empty bag, he muttered "razor, shaving cream, aftershave." Each object was magically placed in his hand as he took them out and set them each on the sink. "Well, hope this goes well with Dumbledore today," he mumbled to himself.

"Oh, you'll look fine dear, after your shave and a nice breakfast downstairs! Tom's making ham and eggs." reassured the mirror.

Percival went down to the inn's ground floor and was offered a breakfast of ham and eggs by Tom, which he accepted despite the rumors about how bad English food was. He picked up a chair off of a great oak table in the center of room. The chair was upside down, just like when a restaurant is closing or opening. This struck Percival as odd because Tom seemed like the kind of innkeeper that would have his table ready before guests came down to eat. Just then a family came downstairs to eat breakfast, whose chairs all flipped rightside up and slid into place to accommodate the diners as they approached. With a sigh, Percival began to eat his eggs, which weren't bad at all.

Percival left the Leaky Cauldron at about noon that day, his long black trenchcoat blown behind him in the crisp London wind as he walked down Diagon Alley. He had to find a bus that would take him as close to Hogwarts as possible, and that meant getting to Hogsmeade. Hagrid had said last night that there was one that ran between Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, cost just a few Galleons, and was perfect for those who couldn't or didn't fly via broomstick. Letting Hagrid believe his own assumption that Percival's broom was back in the States, he made a mental note that night of where the bus stop was.

The ride was smooth enough, which was remarkable because there really wasn't a road at all. Trees, rocks, and houses jumped out of the way, and the water in a creek leading to a river split in two like the Red Sea for Moses as the worn and torn single decked blue bus plowed forward.

The passengers were silent except for a couple of middle-aged witches looking at the Daily Prophet and complaining just loud enough for him to overhear. "I still can't believe Fudge has a job! How can that git still be Minister of Magic? After what he tried to cover up?"

" If I had my way he'd be sacked, and we'd have Dumbledore in his place! I love him as a Headmaster, but there could be desperate times coming."

"Alovely thought Poppy, but I do feel better knowing he's close to me children."

Dumbledore for Minister of Magic? This guy was apparently that big of a deal over here, but there weren't too many folks back home who knew anything about him other than, maybe, his dragon-blood discoveries.

Hogsmeade looked like a great place to sightsee, or even take a girl, but Percival didn't have much time to look around. He started walking along the deserted, silent road from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts alone. The road was unpaved but there was evidence that carriages were frequently used to travel from the town to the school. He thought miserably that he should have tried to find out if there was a mode of transport from the village to Hogwarts, but Hagrid had insisted that it wasn't far. Now that he thought about it, Hagrid's steps had to be four times a normal guy's, so this trip wouldn't take him long at all! It also didn't help that Percival wasn't a big guy, even by normal standards. The path was lined with thick forest along the left side of the road, and the air was crisp at the end of the English August, but the midday sun started to beat down on him.

He took off his long trenchcoat and easily placed it in his enchanted shoulder bag, which still, as always, looked empty. He was much more comfortable with just his longsleeve shirt and jeans on. The forest was nice enough, but it was also thick; thick enough for a thief or two to hide in and hex from before robbing him. Figuring he wasn't being a little too cautious, he reached into his bag, quietly said "Glock," and felt familiar cold steel in his hand. Not bothering to get out his double holstered belt, Percival tucked one of his 9mm's down the front of his pants and walked on. The high towers of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry just started to come into view as he reached the top of a hill in the path. It defined impressive, and the whole place seemed to radiate its own legacy from its walls.

"Welcome Mr. Grant," said an old stern looking witch who stood tall and straight backed wearing robes of deep green. There were rectangular glasses worn at the end of her long thin nose, and an air of strength and severity about her without seeming too cold."I am Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress here." No problem believing that this one is in administration, Percival thought.

With his 9mm already back in his enchanted bag, he shook her hand and said "Afternoon Professor." Taking in the view of the enormous entrance hall, Percival was struck by the majestic nature of the castle's interior. It was true Old World architecture, but it felt…well…alive. Plenty of highly magical structures had their own personality, but the effect was usually subtler than this. The ancient school was practically breathing. "This school of yours is incredible! Nothing like this at all back in the States."

"Thank you, and I daresay you'll have the chance to see a good deal of it later today, but the Headmaster is expecting you now. Follow me please, Mr. Grant." McGonagall turned and began to stride deeper into the massive entrance hall. As he followed her, he noticed some large oak doors to their right that, like the ones leading intoout of the entrancehall, were swung wide open to keep the summer air moving. This was odd though, because the huge room, which housed five gigantic tables, apparently didn't have a ceiling.

"There _is_ a ceiling over the Great Hall, but it's enchanted to look like the sky above it," said McGonagall, who'd noticed Percival's gaze and decided to go ahead and answer the question that she knew was coming. "I believe it was Helga Hufflepuff's idea, she was known to be the most decorative of the four founders of Hogwarts." McGonagall told him more about the school's history on their way to Dumbledore's office, which took longer than expected.

Percival hadn't planned on navigating up (and down) staircases that kept changing their minds about where they wanted to lead, and though he was in great shape, he felt he already traveled on foot enough for that day. Some ghost-like jester floated around them while they were walking down a corridor for a moment, announcing in a startlingly loud voice, "The Yank is here! The Yank is here!" McGonagall threatened it with a visit from Dumbledore after it started singing the Battle Hymn of the Republic, so it blew a loud raspberry and zoomed away backwards. Percival thought this place was bizarre, but he had to admit, it seemed like a fun place to go to school! Bitterly, he remembered the pathetic conditions of the schools he grew up attending, where he learned absolutely nothing of value that helped him with his chosen profession.

"Here we are," said McGonagall. They'd stopped in front of a menacing gargoyle statue that appeared to be guarding an arched oak door and armed with a long spear. It crouched on the floor in front of the door, but was still as tall as McGonagall in this position. She turned to the gargoyle and said "Peppermint Toad." For a second or two nothing happened, but then the gargoyle's eyes suddenly shifted to look at McGonagall. It must have recognized her immediately, because it quickly moved on to study Percival. Cautiously, his hand moved toward his bag, though he didn't know what he might have in there that could help him if this stone guardian decided he was a threat. The fact that he didn't have any of his enchanted armor on was not comforting either. However, the gargoyle, never taking his eyes from Percival's, slowly raised itself to its considerable full height and stepped aside to let them into his master's office.

Dumbledore seemed to be about how Percival had pictured him, an old and wise yet energetic man who spoke kindly and with grace. Sitting on the front of his desk, he conjured up chairs for both Percival and McGonagall. He asked Percival about the trip over and if he was able to sightsee in Hogsmeade, and asked several questions about American wizard and muggle life about which he said he'd been curious. He also apologized for the gargoyle, saying that he felt extra security was necessary these days. After the small talk had gone on for awhile, McGonagall cleared her throat, and they decided to get to business.

"Headmaster," began Percival, "I am interested to know just what it is that I can do for you. After all, this is a school and I'm, well, I'm certainly not a qualified person to teach any specific branch of magic. If I was going to get hired to come to the UK, I figured it would be to deal with that Voldemort problem."

At this, Dumbledore gave a small smile, and watched Percival for a moment before responding. "Mr. Grant, I have a grave problem that I believe someone with your expertise could solve. I understand that you have a great deal of experience in, er, dealing with, dark creatures."

A smirk began to pull on Percival's lips. "Yes sir, you'll find that I have many references back home that will vouch for my efficiency and…" Dumbledore had cut him off with a slight wave of his hand. He looked into Percival's eyes with a piercing but benign gaze, and Percival had the distinct feeling that Dumbledore was penetrating right into his heart. He hadn't yet, but he knew then that there would be no lying to this old wizard.

"I've no need for references Mr. Grant, I've known about you for some time. Unlike most of my wizarding brethren, I enjoy reading both magical and muggle newspapers. You're becoming a name on your side of the Atlantic."

"I'm just a guy trying to make his way in life, using what he can do to get by. Doesn't seem to matter if I ignore the reporters that are starting to want to talk to me or not. Doesn't even matter if I tell them that my main interest is gold, or money in the Muggle world. People need heroes I guess. Maybe that's why people over here talk about you the way they do, sir."

McGonagall cleared her throat again.

"Ah yes, we were just getting down to business." said Dumbledore as he stood up again. "You'll forgive an old man's distractable mind. Mr. Grant, it looks as if I have a vampire in the forest that borders my school. Fortunately, school is not in session, but we are only a couple weeks away from the start of term. While the students are not allowed into the forest at all, especially at night, they have been known to disobey that rule, and I cannot risk harm to any of the children."

Percival thought for a moment. "I take it that this is not public information," he said.

"We three in this room and Hagrid are the only ones that know. There is one teacher who we are planning to involve as well. He has extensive knowledge about vampire activity and dark arts in general," added McGonagall. "He would most likely be of use to you if you choose to accept the job we're offering."

"Well, how much are we talking about?"

"I don't know what your normal fee is, Mr. Grant, but would 700 Galleons suffice?"

Percival had worked quite a few jobs before, so he was used to the look on a client's face that invariably appeared after a proposition. They usually try to look natural, but they almost sweat waiting, hoping they'd hit that mark that would make them feel like they were getting the better end of the deal. It was actually fun to appear hesitant for a second, making the potential client think they'd screwed up and would have to get into a nasty haggling situation. Oddly enough though, Dumbledore didn't seem like he was trying to size Percival up at all; his calm was genuine and almost… contagious. He felt himself relax a little. There was more power behind those twinkling blue eyes than Dumbledore let on, Percival thought. "Which leaves the question, if this guy is powerful and not just popular, what does he need a guy like me around for?"

"I can do it for 800, with 200 of it in advance for expenses while I'm trying to catch him. That's what I charged at the last vamp job I did, and if they find out I did it for less somewhere else it'll look like I overcharged my last client. I figure they'll want me back down there again soon enough."

Dumbledore thought for a moment. "New Orleans, wasn't it? I think that is what I heard, but never trust an old man's memory."

"Yep, it was New Orleans. Hell of a city. Literally. Took me awhile to actually scout him out, and I met my share of other creatures during the hunt too. Come to think of it, I'm going to charge more than 8 if I have to go there again." Percival didn't usually talk about past clients to current ones, but Dumbledore just seemed so honest, so genuine. It was like talking to a great uncle or the nice old guy across the street from your mom's house.

"800 it is then," said Dumbledore. Then he turned to McGonagall and kindly said, "Please take care of Mr. Grant's advance and accommodations, Minerva. Also, contact Severus and let the house elves know that we'll have a guest for a bit." She gave a curt nod and strode out of the door without another word or glance at Percival.

"Accomodations?" Percival was surprised at what Dumbledore was assuming."Look, if you're offering me a room, you don't have to worry about that. I can proba-"

"I insist, Mr. Grant. You see, the house elves are quite bored what with the students gone for the holidays. They'd jump at the chance to have more to do." Dumbledore said with a whimsical smile.

Day 3 

He'd met the teacher Severus Snape that afternoon. Percival couldn't help asking if he was a Batman fan. Of course Snape had no idea what he was talking about, so he waved off his own question. Turned out that Snape knew a great deal about vamps, and confided a suspicion to Percival.

"I think it is entirely possible that there is more than one vampire in the forest, but the Headmaster disagrees." Snape said in a low, businesslike tone. "Dumbledore is usually right, but in any case I'll have brewed you a Night-Eye potion by dinner to help you see while on your hunt. It will augment moonlight in your field of vision. I highly recommend you take it so that you'll have full visibility." Snape didn't stay much longer after dinner that night. Percival noted that before Snape left he'd talked to Dumbledore in hushed tones away from the table and out of he and McGonagall's earshot. Afterwards he'd swept out of the castle without a backward glance.

"C'mon ya bastard," muttered Percival under his breath later that night. "Take the bait already ya leech." Behind a pair of binoculars at the top of one of the shorter Hogwarts turrets he sat watching the trap he'd set up just inside the forest. He shifted a bit to keep his right leg from falling asleep in case he'd have to get up quickly. "God awful trap." It was common knowledge around the British wizarding world that Hogwarts was such a thoroughly magical place that electronic gadgets that were on the grounds usually went haywire. No one had explained this to Percival however, so his laser tripwires had not even attempted to work properly as soon as he turned them on. He couldn't be sure if the tripwires would set off the alarm at all. He had then checked his cell phone to find that not only was the display playing itself at its own video games, but the phone would talk to him if he opened it. After a few too many comments about how Percival needed a girl in his life, he'd decided it needed to stay in his bag until he'd left the grounds.

Where the hell was that vamp? He still watched the edge of the forest, especially keeping an eye on the area close to Hagrid's where there were live animals for a vampire to feed on. Time passed. Nothing came. "Fuck it."

Day 4 

Percival woke up for the second time in a comfortable room just off of The Muggle Studies classroom. Bleary eyed, he looked at his watch. 1 p.m. One good thing about jet lag is that it'll help out if you're going to be working nights. A glance down at the foot of his bed told him that his trusted bag was still with him.

The night before he'd been scouting out the forest, or "Forbidden Forest", as they all seem to refer to it around here. Now that he had the perimeter and basic layout, he'd be better able to start really hunting. Hopefully, this job should be wrapped up just a couple more

days. As long as that vampire showed up at some point it was good as dead. Food and lodging weren't just free, they were great. Well, at least the lodging was. "I might come back here again sometime after this job is done," he thought.

Dumbledore and McGonagall were pretty busy, so during the day he explored the castle by himself. If he got lost, the endless number of portraits on the walls were helpful in getting to where he wanted. He saw a ghost or two wandering high above him as they moved between walls, but never spoke to them. That poltergeist, who a portrait of a fat lady in a pink dress had told him was named Peeves, tried to bother him one more time. Peeves learned his lesson immediately.

He'd been walking along the 2nd floor corridor when Peeves popped out of the wall just ahead of him, tossing the helmet from a suit of armor up and down. "Yankee doodle dandy!" called the apparition with glee when he saw him. Slowing his walk and keeping his eyes forward, Percival pretended that Peeves wasn't saying anything. Bobbing around in midair just around Percival, Peeves kept coming closer as he tried to provoke him. "Oh you'll not be here long, ye bloody cowboy! I haven't even seen you do a bit of magic here yet, and I recKAAA!" Percival had waited until Peeves had just caught the helmet, and then threw a crushing right hook into the poltergeist's no-longer-smirking face. Since the helmet was in Peeves' hand, Percival figured the rest of him had to be corporeal too. Peeves, shocked at having actually been hit, and hit so hard, stared wide-eyed up at Percival from the floor. If the being still had blood, it would have been all over the corridor wall that his head was knocked into from Percival's blow. "Now fuck off, Casper," commanded Percival as he gave one more strike, a swift kick to the stomach. It worked. Peeves, still recovering from the first hit, hadn't unsolidified himself yet. He flew through the wall doubled over with pain. Percival didn't see him again. He didn't see the vampire that night either.

Day 5 

That evening Percival went down to the Great Hall again for dinner, expecting to see Dumbledore and McGonagall at the single table in the middle of the Hall. He was wrong though. The only other person there was the black clad figure of Professor Snape, who'd already said "pea soup" to his plate and began to eat. "Evening Snape," said Percival as he glanced at the short menu. Steak and kidney pie, Pea soup, Toad-in-the-hole, or Bubble and squeak. Wow,thought Percival, English food really does suck. "What's a Toad-in-the-hole?" Snape replied that it was "Sausage covered in batter and roasted. It's an odd name, but it's not bad. The elves here do a fine job with it." Turned out that it wasn't exactly terrible. After they ate in silence for a few minutes, Percival asked Snape something. "So why aren't you the new Defense against the Dart Arts teacher? I got the impression the other day that you really knew your shit about Dark creatures, and I think Dumbledore mentioned that you did too. Seems like finding a new Potions teacher would be easier than a new DADA teacher." Snape looked like he was trying to either come up with something or figure something out. "The headmaster has his reasons. Besides, I have other duties outside of my classes that occupy most of my time anyway." said Snape as he finished his soup. "Speaking of which, I must be off. Here's your Night Eye potion, and I hope your luck is better tonight." Snape left the table, strode to the enormous unlit fireplace, took out a handful of Floo powder from the mantle and threw it into the fireplace. Giant green flames erupted from nowhere. Snape stepped into them, said "Knockturn Alley!", and vanished. How do they travel like that after they just ate? Percival thought. He knocked back the potion and went up to his room to get ready.

He reached into his bag and began to suit up. "Armor." He pulled out a thin, flexible, sturdy torso piece; the bag's opening expanded to accommodate the armor's size. Made by a Muggle craftsman in Boston and enchanted by his family in Salem, The black armor reached quarter-sleeve length down his arms and molded to fit his muscular upper body. The half suit held three stones that gave the armor its properties. On the top of the left shoulder, a red stone empowered the wearer with magical agility. On the top of the right shoulder, a deep blue colored stone that nullified some spells and dulled most others. Finally the green stone in the center of his chest that glowed during combat, giving him a boost in strength and speed. After putting on his well worn pair of Sean Crighton Shock Absorbant and Leap Lengthening boots, He threw his trenchcoat on over the armor, his bag over his shoulder, and went back up to the tower. Hopefully, he thought, tonight would be a bit more eventful. It was about damn time.

He'd been watching the area around Hagrid's when something caught the corner of his eye. He snapped his head up to see a large, dark shape moving almost a mile away and above the Forbidden Forest's trees. Had he not taken the night eye potion, he wouldn't have been able to tell that it was a thestral. He watched it as it rose and fell slightly under its huge leathery wings. As the thestral moved southward and began to descend back into the forest, Percival saw what looked like a man spring out of the treetops and grapple the thestral around the neck. Both man and beast disappeared back into the trees, spinning wildly as they fought in freefall. "There you are, Dracula," Percival muttered to himself as he shortened the strap on his shoulderbag and took off his trenchcoat. He knew full well that he could be in some thick foliage soon and the coat would just slow him down. Getting a running start, he lept off the tower towards the forest.

Thanks to his Crightons and plenty of experiences with falling from great heights , Percival landed at a run just at the edge of the forest. Vamps sometimes liked to hide their meals just before they dug in, but what with being in the middle of a forest, and the inconvenience of dragging around such large prey, Percival figured the vamp wouldn't move far before feeding. He lept up to the trees, and springing from branch to branch covered much more ground than he was before. His leaps had to shorten as the forest got thicker. The night eye potion was still working, but visibility was still dimming with the lack of moonlight. Once it got too dark, Percival would be prepared. He stopped and took a breather in the near total darkness. The trees were now so thick that barely any moonlight filtered through to the forest floor below him, and his long, lighting-fast leaps had shortened to quick hops and runs along the thicker branches. No big deal, it was time to slow down anyway.

Forcing himself to breathe low and quiet, he listened to the pitch black forest floor beneath him. For a few second, there was nothing, then a tiny, nasty, wet, sucking noise below. He reflexively shot his face in the noise's direction, but the forest wasn't getting any brighter. Vision wouldn't be a problem for Dracula down there, but Percival would need a little help. He opened his bag and whispered "night vision" directly into the opening. He reached in and pulled out a set of U.S. Special Forces night vision goggles and silently put them on. Part of Delta Force's payment for some consultant work he'd done a year or so back. Everything went green with the flick of a tiny switch next to his left temple. Percival looked down at the forest floor, trying to spot the vamp or a clue to where it was. He didn't have to look far. About 10 yards ahead of him and 30 yards below was the thestral, lain out on its left side and barely conscious. Its eyes rolled and its tail twitched as the vampire, kneeling like a muslim at prayer, had its fangs buried in its neck.

He had a couple of attacks available to him at this position. He could just drop a grenade down and watch the pieces fly. in the v but why not do it the old fashioned way? He pulled the wooden stake from his belt, and jumped from his perch. Percival saw that the vampire must have heard something; it turned around and looked up with superhuman speed. Percival smiled as the stake entered its heart, because he knew the vamp would have one terrifying second to scream before it turned to dust. It did. He wiped the vampire's ashes from his face and goggle lenses. 800 Galleons for 3 nights. "Shoulda charged more…" he mumbled to himself as he began to make his way back to the castle.


End file.
